


Future Fic Ideas

by PostApocolypticAlien



Category: The X-Files
Genre: F/M, are all going to go here, fics i want to work on at a later point, or fics that just dont really go anywhere, pilots for any future multichapter fics, will all belong here
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-17
Updated: 2021-01-11
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:47:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25953166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PostApocolypticAlien/pseuds/PostApocolypticAlien
Summary: A compilation of future multichapter fic ideas that I either want to test out and/or work on in the future.
Relationships: Fox Mulder/Dana Scully
Comments: 10
Kudos: 28





	1. Future Prison AU

**Author's Note:**

> The tags and summary do sum it up but rather than clogging up my dash (?) with works I may or may not continue with I'm going to put them in here instead. I'm happy to work on these if anyone wishes that so if you do want me to continue with a concept then please let me know.

He knew the plan inside out. Knew what would happen and when it would happen.

Mulder’s stomach was tight with worry. He was pacing- as much as the 3 by 4 cell would let him- trying to think of a solution to this new problem.

Just behind him, Scully sucks in a harsh breath and he looks towards her.

She must see the concern in his eyes, for her, for their situation. She smiles as she breathes out, shaking her head.

“They’re not bad, honestly,” she says, trying to reassure him.

Mulder’s eyes fall to her stomach, impossibly swollen. Her labour had started an hour ago. Out of all the days, Mulder wished it didn’t fall on this one.

But alas, when had any of this wishes been granted?

Defeated, he sighs audibly, at a loss for what to do. And when he looks back at Scully, he sees the same defeat mirrored in her own eyes.

“You should go Mulder,” she tells him and immediately he doesn’t want to hear it. “The riot was your idea. You can leave me here.”

He shakes his head. How could she think he could do that?

He walks the three steps over to her and kneels down beside her, grasping her hand.

The past three months have been a whirlwind of emotions. Since being forced into this place, he’s never felt so much life and freedom- a reason to continue on living. Scully gave him that and he’s not about to throw that all away for a plan that has more flaws than the book his cellmate was reading.

“I can’t do that Scully,” he says, his eyes burning into that. “Freedom or no freedom, I’m not just going to leave you here to suffer the consequences.”

And there will be consequences for all those unable to escape; death or worse and he will not subject her to that.

Another contraction comes and her hand clenches around his briefly.

What were you saying about them not being so bad, Scully? Mulder thinks as the force of her hand makes his fingers feel like they’re about to break.

It passes and Scully nods, understanding that he’s going to stay with her.

“Well then, you better hope this baby comes soon.”

Mulder places his free hand against her stomach, feeling the baby move around inside it.

He smiles despite himself but deep down his stomach twists at the thought of his hopes being given.


	2. Glass Windows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mulder is a runaway and wakes up on Scully's lawn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As usual, if this is something people like I will continue with it.

It’s 2am when he decides to leave. Packs up his things. He doesn’t take much, some clothes, his photograph of his lost little sister. They all go into a backpack, that backpack goes onto his shoulders, and he goes out of the door to catch a bus from Massachusetts to Maryland.

.:.:.:.:.:.

When he wakes, he’s laying on a patch a grass, staring up the barrel end of a shotgun. Eyes heavy and the sun too bright, he puts his hands up in surrender and when he looks to the side, a red-headed boy stands a bit away from the shotgun handler, the look in his eyes one part weary another part curious.

“What’s your name?” the man with the shotgun asks.

“Mulder,” he answers. “Fox Mulder.”

“What are you doing on my yard, Fox Mulder?”

.:.:.:.:.:.

William Scully has four children: two sons and two daughters. He meets his daughters when they come home from school- Melissa and Dana are their names and the older one, Melissa, is warm and welcoming. He finds out he’s only a year older than her. The younger one, Dana, isn’t so much. Where her brother was at least some what curious and her sister friendly, Dana is either. She holds hesitation as her shield and weariness as her sword and she doesn’t let him get close enough to stab.

The Scully house is filled with photographs along the walls; a history and a story sat upon the wallpaper. Already a different universe to the one he’s just came from. The house is quiet, the siblings argue and Mulder is left to observe it all, to watch behind a glass window, of a world he’s never known.


	3. {escort fic}

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been thinking of this idea for a while. Everyone on the server seems to like it so I thought I'd post it here. I'm worried it's ooc but nobodies said it is yet so I'm gonna go with it. If you like the concept I'm always happy to turn it into an actual fic.

He should go out and meet somebody. Get to know them, fall in love with them, build a relationship with them. Yet, relationships took time, he had been down this road multiple times and each one had ended just as badly as badly as the other, this recent relationship taking it to the next level.

He was divorced from somebody he once worshipped and the custody of their child on the line.

He wasn’t going to make a habit out of this. His hand and porn usually did the job but it didn’t always fill the void, fill that sense of loneliness that has been there since he was twelve. Sometimes he just wanted physical human companionship, sometimes he just wanted that too much.

Yet still even after swiping a leaflet that fell out of a magazine at the Lone Gunmen’s for an escort agency it took him a week to build up the courage to call them.

He chooses something called “A Girlfriend Experience”, picks someone somewhere within his age-range and tries not to feel guilty about the whole thing.

.:.:.:.:.:.

She was running late.

Tardiness never felt like an option with her yet Emily had refused to go to bed even after Dana told her she had to go to work. It had ended with Dana a few minutes behind and Emily asleep in her bed.

But it was time to push that life aside for now, to enter this restaurant as Danielle and Danielle doesn’t have a child named Emily or a pile of textbooks to study through.

The restaurant her client had chosen was nice enough; one of those business-y type places that not many wealthy people touched but it was still classy enough to be considered decent to use.

It was rare that she would be fed- food wasn’t often part of the price, after all, it was an extra expense. Besides, most of the men she had encountered just wanted a suck and a fuck and maybe the odd therapy session. Maybe around three of her requests were for this Girlfriend Experience and it wasn’t like she was rolling in requests that much anyway.

Dana had realised quickly the types of women men went for: blonde, tall, boobs. Short redheads who just about fitted into a B-cup never made the cut that often.

Yet, for whatever reason, she had be chosen. From the emails sent this man seemed nice enough of course from the stories she would hear that wasn’t something concrete to go off. People could carefully choose the words they typed, could portray themselves in a certain way online. The same could be said for in person interactions too but people were more likely to slip up during those.

For now, Dana is tucked away, she dons Danielle and approaches able 25 where her companion for the night waits for her.

When she gets there, it’s a gentle tap on the arm, a smile, and a simple “Hi, Mulder.”

.:.:.:.:.:.:.

Mulder’s heart stops in his chest as he stares at her, struck with the thought of how breath-taking she is.

He wouldn’t say little redheads was his ‘type’ but as he was going through the countless lists of girls he hadn’t wanted somebody his type, he wanted no reminder of Diana and so he had chosen her; Danielle, 5’3, 26 years old and the complete opposite to Diana.

He hadn’t seen her face before, for whatever reason she had kept it off the page, Mulder hadn’t been expecting much in terms of looks because of it yet he can’t keep his eyes off her.

He realises she’s said his name and almost comically stumbles his way to standing up, bashing a leg against the table making the cutlery jump and a brief amount of pain to ripple length ways across his right tigh.

“Danielle,” he says wincing through the pain. Her professional name knowing full well it wasn’t her real name. He might be new to this escort world but 1-800 numbers and taught him enough about fake names, maybe he should have considered using one.

She looks to be smiling at his clumsiness, fighting it back, trying to hide it.

A shaky start Mulder thinks, as he pulls out her chair yet she’s sitting down before he gets a chance to show how much of a gentleman he is.

He’s looking through the drinks menu when he realises she’s staring at him, drinking him in. It makes him feel self-conscious.

“What’s wrong?” he asks.

Danielle seems to have realised what she was doing, she quickly looks away from him.

“You’re just…different to who I usually meet with,” she says.

Mulder smiles wryly and cocks his head.

“Is that good or bad?” he asks unsure himself.

“That’s good,” she tells him. “Usually I get the…older men and they definitely don’t go out of their way to buy me food.” She lifts her head up and smiles waiting for his reply.

He has none other than how strange he must seem to her right now, how sad. He also tries not to feel jealous at the thought of her with other men. It’s a thought that comes out of nowhere, a thought he has no right in occupying.

“So do you come here often?” she’s asking.

The answer to was that no. It was a drive away from his apartment, away from any potential sightings of colleagues or people he sees on a daily basis.

“Never,” he says realising this could be chaotic.

But she’s laughing and it’s one of the nicest sounds his eyes have ever heard.

“I hope you didn’t come here just to try and impress me.”

“Try?” he counters. “So I take it you’re not so easily impressed?”

She shrugs. “I’ve been told as much.”

Mulder leans in, surprised at how comfortable he feels around her, how at ease he is.

“Well tell me,” he says. “Are you impressed?”

She looks around the establishment, pretending to think.

“Hmm…I think you could have done better.”

“Okay,” Mulder says leaning back and giving the room a once around himself. He would say he’s done pretty well but she’s laughing again, giggling actually, and the restaurant doesn’t matter.

They order food, not that he’s particularly hungry anymore, but for some reason he doesn’t want this to end. Spending $300 a night to talk seems better than spending $300 on an apology.

“So,” Mulder begins. “What do you do aside from…this.”

He wonders about the answer he will receive. She’s lied about her name, will she lie about this or will to follow the truth as much as she can, altering things here and there. He wonders how much of her true name is in her fake name.

“Well…through the day I study mostly,” she says and this perks his interest.

“What do you study?”

“Uh…” He sees she’s searching for an answer and it breaks his heart to know that he isn’t getting the truth though he had expected her to be a bit more prepared for these questions.

“Chemistry,” she finally says. “I wanted to be a scientist.” She says it almost shyly, tucking her head in and refusing to look at him. He amends his previous thought, perhaps there is a truth after all.

“Wanted?” Mulder asks. “Is that still not possible?”

“Well…I guess so. I’m just worried about somebody hiding out about… _this_.” She purses her lips and shrugs.

Mulder wonder if he’ll get to ask why she does this but then wonders if that’ll be rude to ask anyway even if did get the chance.

“Well, let me pose you a question,” he says just as their food arrives. “Do you believe in the existence of extraterrestrials?”

He watches as she processes his question, her eyebrows knitting together as she attempts to formulate an answer and Mulder is curious as to what that answer is.

“Logically, I would have to say no,” she says slowly. “Given the distances needed to travel from the far reaches of space, the energy requirements would exceed the spacecraft’s capabilities.”

Mulder finds himself impressed with her, the certainty in her answer, he wonders if he’s getting a glimpse of a real person beneath the professionalism, other character.

“Okay, conventional wisdom,” he says, he expected it. “But when convention and science fail us, should we not start looking to the fantastic as answers?”

He thinks he’s caught her, she takes a while to answer, thinking it over through mouthfuls of salads. Mulder is too preoccupied with her mind to worry about the food that goes cold beneath him.

She swallows her food, sitting back in her seat and Mulder waits for the mental foreplay.

“That’s only if convention and science actually fail us.”

He thinks he’s in love.

.:.:.:.:.:.:.

There’s an easiness Dana feels around Mulder. He’s nothing like her previous clients who see nothing beyond her sexual capabilities. Mulder seems to be interested in her mind, in her and she worries she might have revealed too much of herself to him but it’s rare she finds somebody to match her intellect, her classmates can’t keep up with her, her professors shut her down in order to give other members of the class a chance. She feels intellectually frustrated at times.

“Why do you ask all this?” she inquires.

Mulder shrugs. “Oh, it’s just a hobby.”

“Talking about extraterrestrials is a hobby?”

He looks away and mumbles something she doesn’t quite catch.

“What was what?” she asks.

“I look for them.”

It’s endearing, how different he is from anyone else she’s ever met.

“Do you think you’ll ever find them?” It’s not to jest or to make fun of him.

“I’d like to,” Mulder says with an essence of hopefulness in his voice.

.:.:.:.:.:.:.

He makes the decision that he won’t fuck her.

He’ll pay $300 as a fee to access her amazing mind if he must.

They go away from the talk of aliens, something for which Mulder was glad. He has his own secrets locked away and if they continued on the subject anymore, he was worried they would tumble out of his mouth and he’d reveal how spooky he really was. They talk of other stuff, he throws conspiracy theories at her that he barely believes in himself just to hear her debunk them with finesse. She was the one who was right and he was wrong and Mulder is completely okay with that.

He stops when he reaches her hotel, this is the end of one of the best nights of his life. He’ll go home, think of her, perhaps rub one off to the thought of her, and that will be that. He’ll bin that leaflet and they’ll never talk again.

But she’s stopping when she realises he isn’t beside her anymore and turns with a puzzled look on her face.

“Tonight was great, Danielle,” he tells her. “I really enjoyed it.”

Her face almost seems to fall when she realises what he’s doing but she picks herself back up again, nodding.

“Well,” she says walking back towards him. “If we’re not doing _that_ anymore at least let me give you this.”

Her lips touch his and fireworks go off behind him. Mulder feels as though he’s experiencing his first kiss all over again, new and exciting, and a fear that he’s doing something he’s not meant to do.

It doesn’t take long before he’s kissing her back, his tongue trying to gain access to her mouth and to her own tongue. She grants him permission, thank god, and he almost melts inside her mouth.

They fall against a wall, his head collides with the brick but he doesn’t care, there is nothing else on his mind other than the want to pick her up. He’s bent at an awkward angle because even in heels her forehead just about reaches his chin. He’s unsure what to do with his hands, on her hips, on her waist. She seems to become annoyed at his indecisiveness and takes his hands in her own, placing them against her ass all the while not breaking the kiss.

He grows impossibly hard as his senses go into overdrive. He wants her so bad when he said he wouldn’t.

“Danielle…” he moans coming up for air.

“Dana,” he hears her say and at first he’s confused wondering what she’s talking about. “Call me Dana.”

The penny drops. Her name!

“Dana.”

She’s back on him, kissing him harder this time and Mulder was kidding himself before; he’s going to make love to her.


	4. Sparkling White Light

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What if Scully died in season 2 and the rest has been some psychological breakdown hallucination from Mulder and that's why Scully is "immortal".

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This idea doesn't belong to me. A tweet by scullysscuits was posted into the discord server. I'm not sure if this concept belongs to them or had they just found it but do let it be known that this isn't an original idea from me, I'm just turning it into a fic. 
> 
> This is a concept idea. If people like it, I will heavily consider continuing with it but only after I've finished at least one other multi-chapter fic.

His tears stop. Laying lifelessly on the floor like the body on the gurney, his eyes are fixed on a little spec of light in the corner of the room.

His apartment is dark, cold, trashed. The blinds are down, all curtains drawn. There is no light but his eyes are fixed on this spec of light in the corner.

Head hurts, he feels nauseous. Mulder sits himself up and the world spins. He feels drunk. Empty but weighty at the same time. He wants to float away but something is holding him down.

The light in the corner dances, flitters around in its spot. A dopey smiles appears unforced across his lips as he watches this light fly around. Bright and white, seeming to sparkle. It calls his name in a familiar voice.

Mulder…

Mulder shuts his eyes, allowing a warmth to wash over him, a warm breeze once found on Martha’s Vineyard before They took her away.

They took her away, too, but his brain finds it difficult to focus on that. Instead, he focuses on the feel of fingers sliding through his hair, a light scent of cinnamon and lavender wafting up his nose. He falls in the direction of it, crashing into warm, soft material.

Arms wrap around him, physical arms cradling him against her and in turn, his own arms wrap around something physical. He nudges his nose against her, scared to open his eyes for fear she will leave.

“Scully,” he whispers allowed.

“Shh…” her voice sounds loud and clear. Gentle and reassuring.

“Stay,” he says. His eyes close tighter, tears forming in his eyes. He is scared and happy. He clutches onto her.

“I’m here. I will always be here.”


	5. How To Train Your Dragon AU: Mulder Meets Toothless

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Concept idea | Words: 716 | Mulder meets Toothless.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My niece was watching httyd and everything is an xf au to me so here we are. Please let me know if this is something you would like me to continue with.

It couldn’t be this difficult, surely.

Mulder opens his book, checking the estimated flight path the beast fell down. By this estimation, he should’ve came across it by now. With frustrated anger, Mulder scribbles out his home-made map.

He’s that useless he managed to lose a dragon!

He is about to knock a branch out of the way when he notices that it’s broken, the branch splintered, hanging downwards towards a pit. No simple land animal did this.

Mulder realises quickly what this is. His heart begins thumping loudly against his rib cage, blood gushing to his ears. His hands are sweaty, breath shaky. He tells himself he is a Viking, this is his job, what he is training for. He’s the first person to ever shoot down a Night Fury, he has no reason to be scared.

Quietly as possible, he makes his way towards the pit. The dragon lays on the ground, hidden, by his wings. _Is it dead?_ Mulder wonders. He sees his net caught around the dragon’s mid-section, wrapped around a wing.

Mulder takes out his dragger and sprints towards a boulder. Behind it, he feels his heart beginning to beat faster. He gulps, counts to three, slowly walks up towards the dragon.

It makes no movement, doesn’t even breathe. Excitement runs through Mulder, he is unable to keep back the biggest smile.

“I did it…” he says to himself in wonder. This changes everything. He places his foot proudly on the Night Fury’s body. Standing tall, he proclaims to the trees loudly, “I have brought down this magnificent beast!”

Upon the last word uttered, the Night Fury moves its front leg, forcing Mulder back towards the boulder. It takes him off guard, Mulder gasps, and holds out his dagger, his breath quickening again.

Mulder waits for something to happen yet the dragon doesn’t move. Its’ ragged breathing echoes through the forest. Mulder gently moves forward, edging closer to the dragon. He peers over the wing to find brilliant green eyes staring up at him.

Brilliant green eyes staring up at him in pain.

And Mulder finds himself caught off guard again, staring into the eyes of this dragon that he brought down. He looks at the ropes properly this time, seeing them twisted around the dragon’s body. It does something to him, makes him second-guess what he’s doing. _Is that what’s wrong with me?_ Mulder wonders. _Is this what makes me so different_? In respond to these unknown questions, Mulder grips his dagger tighter and slowly raises it above his head, telling himself that he is a Viking. He Is A Viking!

The dragon still watches him.

His father told him if he was to still something he better look it in the eye as he did it but how could Mulder do that while the animal stares at him, his eyes pleading for him not to do it so he shuts them and wills himself to do it, to just kill the beast and have it over with.

But its’ ragged breaths turn to breaths of fear, quickening as it breathes out and Mulder is reminded of himself, of his own fears and a nagging feeling that This. Is. Wrong.

The dagger comes down, hopelessly to Mulder’s side. Failure mixed with guilt swarms within him as he looks to the dagger then back to the ropes holding the dragon down.

His pride wilts away, nothing but disgust flooding in.

“I did this,” he says with sorrow. Looking back at the dragon, Mulder knew there was only one way to fix this: To pretend it never happened.

He cuts at the ropes binding the dragon one by one, the most stupid idea he’s ever had but it does wonders to his soul.

The last rope uncut, Mulder barely has time to react before the dragon’s claw is at his throat, holding up him against the rock.

This is it, Mulder thinks, his eyes shutting tight. His last stupid mistake.

But it doesn’t come. Instead a roaring sound deafens his ears, the dragon releases its grip upon Mulder and blunders away, lifting up into the air.

Mulder can barely believe his luck, can barely process what’s just happened. He survived a close encounter with a dragon, the first Viking to ever live.


End file.
